Star Wars Factions
by Wander World
Summary: The early years after the Clone Wars were dark, chaotic. Much of the galaxy had been torn apart by war. A new dictatorship was rising in the form of the Galactic Empire. To many, these were dark times. But to others, they represented the creation of a new order. Numerous loyalists filled the Stormtrooper ranks. But why? One bounty hunter would soon find out...


**A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away….**

 **STAR WARS: FACTIONS**

 **THE OLD REPUBLIC has been transformed into the tyrannical GALACTIC EMPIRE. Across the stars, the JEDI KNIGHTS have been wiped out, erasing all hope. Dark times have descended, as the Emperor tightens his grip upon the galaxy.**

 **On the planet of MANDALORE, several warrior tribes have waged a pitched insurgency against imperial order. Many innocents have died in the crossfire. Only one garrison has stood firm in the withering assault.**

 **Facing an escalating war of attrition, the Empire has looked to the other end of the galaxy. Hidden on the obscure world of BELDERONE, a bounty hunter pursues a life of secrecy. Unbeknownst to him, a diplomatic shuttle races towards his location, eager to ascertain the fate of a vital star system…**

 **Ch. 1**

The ominous shadow of the Star Destroyer first fell across Belderone two solar cycles ago. Since then, the planet's denizens had speculated as to the cause of its arrival, intimidated by the turbolasers that bristled across its hull. All public comm channels had been shut down, and a deathly pall hung over the world.

The Empire had been brief and officious, claiming that a mandatory evaluation of all local garrisons was underway. At first glance, the evidence pointed in favor of their word. The once-omniscient white armor of the Stormtroopers was nowhere to be seen. Checkpoints that had been manned for months were left closed.

But underneath the surface of order rested a deeper dread. Gangs that once roamed the streets at night vanished as well. The crime lords left, one by one, until only their underlings remained. The prisons, which had been full for so long, suddenly emptied, the moans of their inmates replaced by silence.

Strangest of all, however, was the sight that hung in the sky above. The dark behemoth of a ship had not come as an entourage or a fleet…

It had come alone.

* * *

My eyes are burning. I squint, squeezing the tears out, but there's more coming after. When I turn, the membranes flash from purple to orange – and then back again to shadows. Vaguely, I remember the mattress rising up to meet me, except I barely feel it now. My fingers tremble, but I brush through my hair anyways. Fingernails drag through tangled strands, stuttering in their path. For a second, my scalp tingles, the first sensation to reach me through my stupor.

And then I wake.

There's nothing on me. A sharp pang of panic follows, but then I catch a glimpse near the closet. A polished chrome helmet gleams underneath a hastily drawn blanket. Nearby lies a set of armor, piled together like skin after a molting. Closer to the bed are the undergarments, their dark fabric blending in with the carpet.

They're cold though, I just know it, and the bed is still so warm, so I stay under the covers and look to my other side (My left? My right?). I'm met with glinting light, curving over glass bottles. I identify the three culprits of my condition, and remember their acrid taste, burning in the back of my throat. I look ahead of me, attempting to regain my composure.

An old blaster rifle, a wrist gauntlet with the blade still extended, two empty pistols, and a belt all lie slumped against the wall. They're just as exhausted as me, but they don't show it as well. The rifle still gleams with polish as luminous as the day I stole it.

Amid these musings, my hazy mind finally stumbles upon last night and dredges it up. I suddenly remember that I have a bounty due today. I whisper out a curse, my croaking throat too weak to vent my frustration.

A stumbling rhythm finds its way through my feet, and guides me towards a lump on the floor. It was buried underneath my undergarments, so I shift them aside. Ignoring a metallic smell in the air, I pull up a gauntlet scored by laser burns and knife cuts. With a slow, searching thumb, I activate the wrist monitor. Its blue screen pulses into life.

One call missed. With a single button, I call the number.


End file.
